Blankets, Pants And Thermostats
by nowlifeissweetlikecinnamon
Summary: The air in 221B was bitterly cold, not like Sherlock purposely tampered with the thermostat or anything of the sort...In result, the detective came to a conclusion that the idea of body heat exchanged through cuddling would be sufficient in keeping him and his flatmate warm . But with one condition, John wears his red pants as they cuddle on the lounge sofa.


**A/N: I know, a lot of texting in this one, hushhush. I hope you like it nonetheless! Happy reading :)**

John, can you come sit on the couch with me? SH

Not if you're sprawled across it like usual. Why, anyway? JW

No, I'm sitting up. And I'm absolutely freezing and there are no blankets to be found in this damn flat. SH

I've got my duvet and about six layers of clothes. Is the heating broken? JW

Yes, I believe it is. Now hurry to the couch. SH

Body heat is proven to be more effective than blankets. I suggest we cuddle. SH

[delayed] Not good? SH

No, I'm just surprised that you'd volunteer to endure physical contact, even for survival purposes. JW

I'll be right down. JW

John, I've never been opposed to the idea of...physical contact. There's just no one that is worth my time to do so. SH

Which effectively does mean that you are opposed to it. Not that it matters. JW

No one other than you, John. Wasn't that _obvious_. SH

Not to me. JW

It should have been. I asked you to cuddle, haven't I? SH

To keep you from getting hypothermia in your own flat. JW

And just give me a minute. I need another jumper. JW

no need for a jumper. SH

There's always need for a jumper. JW

Yes, but not now. SH

I'm cold, even with the prospect of cuddling. JW

The idea of creating heat with physical contact is /actual/ physical contact, John. No jumper means more heat. SH

By that theory we'd have to be naked. Body heat isn't only transferred from skin-on-skin contact. Lying together under a blanket would be enough. JW

Fine. No jumper and a blanket. SH

If you insist. JW

Good. And I hope you're not wearing those jeans. That fabric doesn't allow heat to travel. It would be selfish of you to wear them. SH

What would you prefer me to wear then, Oh Bossy One? JW

Your red pants. SH

And? JW

...Just the pants, John. Hardly a difficult deduction, yet again. SH

Not happening. Pyjama bottoms it is. JW

No. SH

Tough. JW

John, please. I need to be warm and that won't help. SH

I'm in my pants if that makes you feel any better. SH

They're not exactly thick. I'm not cuddling you in just my pants and you need to put something else on! No wonder you're sodding cold! JW

I refuse. Most of my pyjamas are made of a silk blend, reducing it's ability to produce and maintain heat. Highly ineffective. SH

And _only_ the pants, John. SH

Posh git. I'll bring down some of mine. They're just cotton. No problem with heat transfer. JW

No. SH

If you're sitting in a freezing flat in just your pants and wondering why you're cold then I'm retracting your genius status. JW

John, I'm judging this situation from a scientific perspective. Body heat is the best way to warm up two people simultaneously. Hence my reasoning to only be in our pants. SH

Jesus Christ. I'm not cuddling you in just my pants. No way. It's not that cold. JW

yes it is, and yes you are. SH

No. JW

John, don't be stubborn. SH

You can't ask me that when you're the most stubborn person on the planet. JW

I'll be down in a minute. JW

In your pants...SH

And my pyjamas and a jumper. JW

JOHN. SH

Leave it, Sherlock. JW

No, take them off. SH

The efficiency of heat transfer won't be reduced enough to make a big difference. JW

Yes it _will_. SH

Fine, if you won't be in your pants, I'll have to get rid of my pants to compensate for your lack of physical contact. SH

John rolled his eyes and ignored the text, instead shoving his phone aside to tug the duvet off his bed. He trudged downstairs, the blanket trailing behind him. "Right. Budge up," he said shortly when he nudged open the door to the living room. "Pants on or no cuddling."

Sherlock sat on the couch in the living room, staring at John, who clearly ignored Sherlocks request. "John, this is highly ineffective. If you won't be in your pants, I have to be naked! It won't work if you don't cooperate."

With a sigh, John folded his arms and pointedly did not look in Sherlock's direction. "I'm not cuddling with you naked," he said firmly. "If you don't put some clothes on then I'm going back upstairs to curl up in my nice, semi-warm bed and leaving you here to freeze your bollocks off."

Sherlock scrambled to put back on his pants which he, unnoticeably ended up flinging towards the other side of the flat. "John, if you are that insecure about seeing me naked, I suggest you further avert your eyes as I do have to get up in search for my pants." Sherlock proceeded to stand up, and waited for John to turn the other way before scampering across the freezing flat floorboards.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm a doctor and I was in the army. I've seen far more than my fair share of penises." Still, John turned his back, wrapping his duvet tightly around himself. "Also, I really don't want to know how they ended up all the way over there," he muttered. "Are you done yet?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Johns comment about the numerous body parts he'd seen in his day. "If you consider your flatmate standing in his pants as decent, then yes, I am done." Sherlock said reluctantly, still believing that his plan involving him being naked was /far/ more efficient. "John I'm still insisting you wear your pants. Even if it is for only a few minutes, I want to see if this theory works as well as I hope."

John shook his head. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p' as he turned around and headed for the sofa. "Maybe in a bit, although probably not." Settling on the sofa, he stretched out under the duvet. "Sherlock, this isn't an experiment, this is trying to get you warm. It will work just as well without me having bare legs. We're in London not the Arctic."

"Well it feels like the Arctic, John. And yes, I have been there. It was for a case a few years back, but I won't talk about that now, get in your pants, John. I would get warm much faster if you just complied. " Sherlock wouldn't let up until John joined him in his pants hypothesis.

For several seconds, John just glowered up at Sherlock. Then he heaved a huge sigh and wriggled out of his pyjama bottoms and shoved them out from under the blanket. "There. Now stop your bloody whinging. You're just delaying getting warm."

Sherlock gave John a satisfied smirk, being that he had just won their debate. He slid under the duvet that John had set up on the couch, moving directly up against the man behind him. "John...is this comfortable? I mean, I am taller, so shouldn't I be behind you?" Sherlock was only thinking logically, although he had never done anything of the sort in the past.

"Yes. Fine. Whatever." John rolled his eyes. "It hardly matters. It's the contact that's important." Still, John gritted his teeth and got up, clambering over Sherlock. The duvet briefly slipped to reveal the requested red pants, but John hurriedly tucked himself in in front of Sherlock.

"The red pants, you listened." He gave a small, content chuckle. Sherlock instinctively brought his arm up and swung it over the newly positioned man in front of him. "Like I said, It's warm already." He boasted.

John shook his head. "I didn't listen. I was wearing them already," he muttered, hoping despite himself that Sherlock wouldn't notice the lie. "You'd have been warm if I was still wearing a layer of cotton," he grumbled, but he pressed back against Sherlock, already feeling a great deal warmer.

"Of course you were wearing them earlier." Sherlock saw right through John, _obviously._ "I might have been warm, but I wouldn't be /this/ warm." "Or have seen you in your red pants" Sherlock muttered the second half of his sentence quietly under his breath, curious if John could hear that or not.

With a small frown, John glanced over his shoulder. "What has seeing me in my red pants got to do with anything?" he asked. "They're just pants. Nothing to do with you getting warm."

'Shit' shit shit' Sherlock thought repeatedly in his mind, not sure how to go about answering Johns question. "I um...like them, that's all." Sherlock was staring at anything but Johns eyes. He was embarrassed.

John raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, you like them?" He wriggled around so that he was facing Sherlock, unable to not notice that the man's arm was still around him. "I mean, yeah, they're comfy, but that's why I like them."

The detectives face was impossibly close to Johns, leaving him little room to escape their impending eye contact. "I just do...all right? Can we change the subject to something else? Like my results on the coagulation of saliva after death for instance?"

Sighing, John shrugged. "If you like. What happens to spit after death then?" He looked up at Sherlock, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile.

"Nothing happened really. It evaporates like one would assume. It wasn't an interesting experiment if I must say." 'Shhhit' Sherlock thought to himself again. Why must he bring up an experiment that he had such little to talk about.

"Fine. Well, that was a successful subject change." John chuckled, shifting against Sherlock to get more comfortable. "At least you haven't been too bored recently." He glanced up in suspicion. "Unless you fiddling with the heating is why we're here."

"John, why on /earth/ would I torture myself by turning down the heating. It's highly illogical." The word 'shit' seems to have become a frequently used word in Sherlocks thoughts. Sherlock had turned down the heating in attempt to lure John into this cuddle that Just so happened /needed/ them to be in their pants.

John gave a shrug. "I'm not saying you deliberately turned it down. I'm saying that you might have been playing with it and accidentally broken it." Sighing, John tucked his head into the crook of Sherlock's shoulder and closed his eyes. "Let me know when you're not in danger of hypothermia any more."

Sherlock took in a deep breath as John nuzzled closer against his neck. As Sherlock exhaled he muttered words filled with breath, in attempt to slur them, yet again hoping John wouldn't hear. "I'll never stop being cold." The way Sherlock was with John at the moment was perfect in his eyes. Worried that if he said he was getting warmer, John would leave him.

"Laws of Thermodynamics," John murmured with another quiet chuckle, only just catching what Sherlock had said. "I'm warm-ish, so you will be too soon enough." He pressed closer to Sherlock as if to prove his point, slipping an arm around the man's middle.

"Doubt it." Sherlock said, protesting Johns statement. "I'm afraid I will take a long time to warm up, considering my height as well as my poor health from my deficient eating habits. We might have to stay like this a while." Sherlock shivered slightly when John returned the half-embrace.

"Yeah. Well, that's your own fault. I tell you often enough to look after yourself and eat more." Drowsily tangling his legs with Sherlock's, John tried to subtly breathe in the scent of his friend's skin. "This isn't too bad though. You're oddly comfy for a bony beanpole."

Sherlock tensed as their legs intertwined. This is _exactly_ what Sherlock wanted. But was John only doing this to stay warm? "A bony beanpole...How kind of you, John. I should ask for compliments from you more frequently." Sherlock responded with an obvious twinge of sarcasm.

John chuckled. "Oh, the irony. I give you practically nothing but compliments, you git. On the other hand, I think the nicest thing you've ever said to me is that I'm not quite as stupid as Anderson most of the time." His tone was fond. He didn't really mind that much; he was used to Sherlock's ways by now.

Sherlock was shocked to hear that he never _really_ complimented John. He was beautiful in his eyes, but he is Sherlock Holmes, and can't bring himself to say anything of the sort. "You're brilliant, John. Really, you are. And I like you in red pants."

Eyes fluttering open, John glanced up at Sherlock with a smile. "It's okay. You don't have any catching up to do." He pressed his face back into his friend's neck. "I like them too. Red's my lucky colour."

"Catching up? I'm speaking what's on my mind, right now. You really are amazing, John." He wished John would just listen to him. Sherlock had much more to tell him, but saying at least this was good enough at the time. He tightened his grip slightly on his bloggers back.

John grinned, rubbing his hand over Sherlock's spine. "Okay then. Thank you. And likewise." This was... nice. Sherlock was steadily warming up, but oddly enough, John didn't feel the urge to point it out. Sighing, he cuddled closer and let his eyes fall shut again.

"John...if, _if_ I was hypothetically warmed up...could we still stay like this for a while?" Sherlock asked, squeezing his eyes shut, and prepared to hear that John was opposed to the idea.

"Is this you being too much of a lazy bugger to move?" John teased. "I suppose we could. I'm comfy enough, but you're going to get bored pretty soon."

"How could I get bored when I'm lying here with you?" Did Sherlock just say that out loud? 'Shit' he thought to himself, yet again.

John raised an eyebrow. "Okay, are you sure you're feeling okay? Taken anything?" He smirked. "Sherlock, that was almost... sweet."

"No, I'm clean, John. And I was meant to be sweet, I mean it." Sherlock sighed at Johns less than satisfactory response.

"Alright then. Thank you, in that case. It was a rather adorable thing to say." John nuzzled into Sherlock's neck to hide his grin. "So, would you say you're warm?"

"If I said yes, would you leave?" Sherlock asked rather cautiously.

John shrugged. "Not if you asked me not to. You do seem to have just answered my question though."

Sherlock huffed. "I'm warm, but I want you to stay, please." Sherlock leaned his head so it rested on top of Johns.

"Alright then," John said softly, idly trailing his fingers over the bumps of Sherlock's spine. "I'll stay."

Sherlock was confused by Johns response. He didn't know if the hand on his spine was a sign of affection or not. Upon instinct, Sherlock tilted his head down slightly and kissed John ever so lightly on his forehead before quickly pulling back to watch Johns reaction. Sherlock said nothing and waited for John to speak.

John froze. For several seconds, he didn't move or make a sound. Eventually, he pulled away from Sherlock's neck and leant up to brush a soft kiss to his jaw before quickly looking away.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do in this moment, being that he had never share a kiss with _anyone_. "John...I..."He was cut off by the absence of thought in his mind. This was a new, and completely foreign experience for him, he was flustered.

"Sorry," John mumbled, biting his lip. He shook his head. "I just thought..." His heart sank and he pulled away, not looking at Sherlock. "It was just a stupid... I dunno..."

"Do it again. Please. Do it again." Sherlock said, reassuring John that what he did was perfect.

John's gaze snapped up to Sherlock's in shock. Very hesitantly, he tilted his head up to kiss the same spot before slowly trailing little kisses over Sherlock's cheek towards his mouth.

Sherlock tilted his head down in order to meet his mouth with Johns. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but with instinct, he intertwined his lips with Johns. He let John lead the kiss, being that he was clearly the more experienced of the two.

John couldn't help but smile against Sherlock's lips. He kissed slowly, letting them both get used to it, although he was very nearly overwhelmed by just how soft and plush Sherlock's lips were.

Sherlock let out a huff of warm breath against Johns cheek as he pulled away slowly from the kiss. "John, This is perfect. Absolutely perfect. You are perfect. I'm just...I..I don't know if I'm ready for anything else /right now/, I just thought you should know in case you wanted to..."

"Ssh..." John breathed, slipping a hand up to gently cup Sherlock's cheek. "You don't have to worry. There's no rush." He pressed another light kiss to Sherlock's lips and chuckled. "You did tamper with the heating, didn't you."

Sherlock let out a slightly devilish chuckle. "Thank you. And possibly, yes." A smile grew on Sherlocks face that practically stretched from ear to ear. "I hope you're not mad."

Sherlock immediately let out a yawn as he finished his response and rested his head back on top of Johns. John grinned. "Maybe a little mad. Not very though." He sighed, nestling into the crook of Sherlock's neck and pressing kisses to the pale skin. "It didn't work out too badly."

"I think it was a success" Sherlock said, smiling against Johns forehead before kissing him softly. "I'm getting quite tired from all the snogging, should we stay here for the night?"

"Mmm..." With a muffled yawn, John nodded. "Yeah. You couldn't get me to move right now for anything."

"Good. But we'll continue this in the morning, yes?" Sherlocks words were breathy and exhausted.

John smiled. "Oh, definitely," he purred. "I haven't even started teaching you yet."

"And there will be _a lot_ of that, I assure you. But for now I think we should sleep." Sherlock said letting out an impossibly long yawn into the air.

Rather than reply, John just snuggled close and shut his eyes, letting himself drift off warm and comfortable in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock soon followed, lips resting against Johns forehead. 'perfection' was the final word drifting through Sherlocks mind before he too had fallen asleep in his bloggers arms.


End file.
